


The Letters

by themorewedance



Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: F/M, Turnadette - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-09-19 01:09:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9410813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themorewedance/pseuds/themorewedance
Summary: Timothy finds a stack of old letters hidden in the closet.





	

**Author's Note:**

> ONLY ONE MORE DAY TO THE CTM PREMIERE!!! In all the recent excitement I have had a lot of motivation to write more. I had this idea and decided to give it a shot! It's set around season 5. Hope you enjoy!! :)

Shelagh and Patrick were cuddled on the couch reading that day’s newspaper together when suddenly Timothy, who had been quietly doing his homework at the kitchen table, spoke up. 

“Dad, did you keep my leg braces?” Patrick was bewildered by his son’s sudden, and albeit random, question. He looked down at his wife, and could tell that she was equally confused. 

“I think they’re in the closet in our bedroom. Why on earth do you ask?” He folded the newspaper and placed it on his lap, hoping to get to the bottom of this. 

“We have to give a presentation in my french class on an item that is important, or has meaning to us. I wanted to bring my leg braces, and talk about having polio, and how it brought our family closer together.” Both Shelagh and Patrick smiled brightly at their son, admiring the strong young man he was growing up to be. Shelagh got up from the couch and walked over to Timothy and placed her hands on his shoulders.    
“I think that is a wonderful idea, darling. They’re upstairs. I could get them for you if you like.” Timothy sprung up his chair and told his parents that he would go look for them. He set off up the stairs and into his parents bedroom. He walked over to the tiny closet and pulled open the door. The small space was cluttered with junk, from clothes to case files to old medical equipment. He couldn’t believe that his mother would allow for such a mess. Timothy stood in the doorway, bewildered, without any clue where to even begin to look for his old braces. He started with boxes on the floor, which had turned out to be nothing but old medical journals. As he moved boxes out of the way, a shimmer of metal caught his eye. On the wall, wedged in between his dad’s shirts, hung his braces. He reached in and grabbed the braces, and he was about the close the closet when another item caught his eye. Up on a high shelf a little box was tucked away in the corner. It was decorated in white lace, and it was something Timothy knew he had never seen before. He tossed the braces outside the closet and reached up for the box. He removed the lid to reveal the contents, which turned out to be nothing but envelopes. Disinterested he was about to return to the box, when he noticed that envelopes were addressed to a his mother, when she was still a nun. Intrigued, he sat down on a box on the floor and delicately took the top letter out. With a closer look, he immediately noticed his dad’s chicken scratch handwriting in the address was written in. His heart began to pound as he inspected the letter, which was addressed to the sanatorium where his mother had stayed when she had TB. He had no idea that his father had written her letters, especially when she was still a nun! He was about to take the letter out of its envelope when he heard his dad calling him from downstairs. 

“Did you find the braces, son?” Timothy quickly put the envelope back and put the box under his arm. He grabbed the braces and poked his head out of the bedroom door. His parents were standing at the bottom of the stairs. He held up the braces so his parents could see them, keeping the box hidden from their sight. 

“Found them! They were buried in all of your stuff dad.” Patrick laughed and Shelagh playfully hit his arm. 

“I’ve been telling your father to clean out that closet for months now. Nevermind then, I just put some cake on the table for dessert. It came straight from Nonnatus this afternoon!” 

“I’ll be down in a minute,” Timothy told them. “I’m just going to put these in my room.” 

He waited for his parents to go into the kitchen before quickly scurrying into his room and shutting the door behind him. He sat down on his bed and took out the letter again, holding it in his hands for a moment. He was torn with what to do. On one hand, he felt like he would be invading his parents’ privacy by reading these personal letters. On the other hand, he was desperate to know how the nature of their relationship when she was still at Nonnatus. Everything happened so quickly between his parents that he had so few memories of them at the start. He decided that he should go downstairs before his parents came looking, and he hid the box under his bed, resolving to read the letters later on before bed. 

He sat down at the kitchen table and his mother served him a piece of Mrs. B’s delicious chocolate cake. He could feel his mouth salivated at the sight of it. 

“Sister Julienne gave me this cake when I stopped by earlier today. She said it was better here than in Sister Monica Joan’s reach.” Patrick let out a bellied laugh and made a comment about the nun’s sugar intake, but Timothy didn’t hear it. He was totally absorbed in thought about what the letters could say. He looked at the interactions his parents shared now, their playful glances, the way that his dad kisses his mom’s forehead, just the way they fit together as a couple. Sometimes he even forgets that they’ve only been married for 3 years. He quickly ate his cake, and then told his parents he was feeling very tired so that he could retreat to his room. He bolted up the stairs and into his room, closing the door behind him. He pulled the box out from underneath his bed, and took out the first letter again. He hesitantly, and with shaking hands, took the letter out of envelope. His heart once again began to beat faster, and he could feel it pounding in his ears. He unfolded the letter and held it out before him, taking a deep breath before reading it. 

_ Sister Bernadette,  _

_ I hope this letter finds you in good health. I am certain that because we diagnosed you so early, you will make a full recovery. I am writing you this letter because I wanted to apologize for my recent behavior. No amount of apologies would be able to make up for the way I acted at the clinic that afternoon. I don’t know what came over me, I couldn’t control it. I am truly sorry for putting you in such an uncomfortable position, that was never my intention. I hope you can write back to me soon with an update on your health.  _

_ Best wishes,  _

_ Dr. Turner _

Timothy must have read and reread the short letter a thousand times. He read the words over and over until his eyes burned and his head hurt. His mind was racing with unanswered questions. What could have happened at the clinic that was so bad? Could that have been their first kiss? Had they shared a kiss when she still married to God? He was desperate for more information was tempted to keep to keep reading the letters, but his conscience was telling him to stop. Timothy carefully took the remaining stack of letters out of the box and flipped through them, noticing that they were all addressed to his mother. Had she not returned any of his letters? Or were his letters in another box? More questions filled his brain that he could barely think straight. A long yawn escaped from him and he resolved to try and get some sleep. Timothy placed the letters back in the box, and returned it to the spot under bed before tucking himself himself under the covers, trying to clear his mind of the letters.

He awoke the next to morning to his mum lightly tapping on his shoulder. He slowly opened his eyes, trying adjust to the brightness of the room. Shelagh was sitting on the edge of his bed, trying to rouse her sleepy son. 

“Timothy, dear, time to wake up. I know it’s a Saturday but that doesn’t mean you can sleep all morning. Rise and shine!” Shelagh rose from the bed and enthusiastically threw open the curtains, letting the sunlight drown the room. Timothy groaned at the sudden brightness of the room, but forced himself upright, so that Shelagh would know he was awake. She smiled smugly and kissed Tim on the forehead before the leaving the room. Without any hesitation, Timothy returned to the letters. He read each letter one by one, pouring over the words. His dad discussed any weekly happenings, news from the clinic, and best wishes from patients. Each letter, however, became more sincere and more passionate. With each letter, his father’s feelings became more clear. One letter included the phrase, “I can’t picture my life without you.” As the pile got smaller, Timothy felt more involved. He hadn’t even realized how many letters he had read until he reached for the stack, only to find that there was only one letter left. He held the letter in his hands for a moment, wondering what his dad might have written. He delicately took the letter out of the envelope and began reading. 

_ Sister,   _

_ I understand that you have written back to Timothy. He was very excited when he got your letter. I must admit, though, I could not help but feel jealous. I have been checking the post obsessively each day, hoping for any sort of response from you. I assume by now your lack of responses means you do not want to hear from me any longer, so I promise, this is the last letter. I cannot let life move forward until I tell you one more time how I feel about you. Truthfully, I have not been able to stop thinking about you. I wake up, and I am thinking about you. I go to sleep, and I am thinking about you. I dream… and it’s you. It’s all you. When I dropped you off at the sanatorium and I watched you walk away, I thought my heart was breaking. I couldn’t bare to lose you. I never thought I could love another woman after my wife passed, but I do. I knew from the moment we shared that cigarette, that I was falling in love with you. Your bright blue eyes, your smug smile as you took the cigarette. That was it for me. My life is so much better because you are in it. I am inspired by your dedication to your patients. I admire your sincerity and your sense of humor. I have fallen in love with you and I barely know what you look like, I don’t even know your name. I’m sorry for saying all this. I don’t expect you to leave the order, or to even feel the same for me, but I needed you to know. I don’t know if I have said too much or not enough, but I hope to hear from you soon.  _

_ Best wishes, _

_P. Turner_

Timothy got to the last line of the letter and was stunned. Before Shelagh had gone into the sanatorium, Timothy could see that his Dad was smitten with the nun. He knew from the way that he immediately straightened his tie and fixed his hair when she entered the room, and from the way that his face brightened whenever he saw her. All this was very apparent to him, and even he was in full support of their future relationship, but for some reason he was shocked that his father had declared his love for Shelagh so boldly when she was still a nun.

Timothy sat on the edge of the bed, clutching the letter. He reread it over and over until he could recite every word. He hadn’t realized how much time had passed since his mother had come in to wake him, she let herself into his room to check on him. He had been so consumed by the letter that he didn’t even notice her at first. 

“Timothy…” Shelagh stood in front of him, taking in what she saw in front of her. Timothy sat on his bed, surrounded by the opened letters. He shot up from the bed, and instinctively held the letter behind his back. Shelagh’s face turned a bright shade of pink, and Timothy immediately felt guilty. 

“I’m sorry, Mum. I found them in the closet when I went looking for the braces, and I was curious. I didn’t realize they would be so personal, and I shouldn’t have read them.” Timothy bent his head down towards the floor, unable to make eye contact with his mother. He took the letter from behind his back and held it in front of him so that Shelagh could take it. Shelagh slowly took the letter from Timothy’s quivering hand, and Timothy could tell from her demeanor that she was trying to remain calm. 

“Timothy, these are very personal, private letters.” Shelagh reprimanded him, her voice shaking. Timothy kept his eyes focused on the ground, knowing that his mother was probably upset with him. 

“I know, Mum. I’m so sorry.” Shelagh let out a deep sigh, before slowly sitting down on the bed. 

She patted the space next to her to signal Timothy to sit down too. He obeyed and sat down quietly, still unable to make eye contact. 

“If you have any questions, feel free to ask.” She muttered after a brief silence. Timothy looked up at his mother, shocked. 

“You’re not mad?” Shelagh shook her head, trying to find the right words.

“I’m not mad,” She replied, and Timothy let out a sigh of relief. “I am a little upset that you read them without asking, though.” Timothy nodded in compliance, a pit of guilt churning in his stomach. The two Turners sat on the bed quietly for what seemed like forever, neither Shelagh nor Timothy knowing what to say next. Finally, Timothy broke the silence. 

“Why didn’t you write any letters back?” Shelagh remained quiet, trying to formulate words in her head. 

“When I was in the sanatorium, I was struggling, truly struggling, with myself. I was ill with a serious illness and I didn’t know if I would survive. I was questioning my faith, and most importantly, I was questioning my purpose my life. I knew in my heart that I loved your father, but I was married to the religious life. I didn’t know what to do. I was scared to even read the letters until shortly before I left. I felt guilty, and I was so confused, and so scared.” She nervously played with the letter in her hands, unsure how much she wanted to divulge to her young stepson. 

“By the time I read them all, I had been deemed fit to leave the sanatorium. I couldn’t possibly put everything I was feeling down on paper, and the letter wouldn’t even have reached your dad before I returned to Poplar.” 

“That’s when you called him, and we found you on the road.” Timothy said, filling in blanks now. Shelagh smiled fondly to herself, remembering that day. The misty haze for endless miles, the sight of Patrick getting out of his car to meet her in the road, using her real name. Those memories were permanently etched in her mind. 

“I love our family, Mum.” Timothy wrapped his arms around the tiny woman, and Shelagh returned the gesture. 

“I love it too, Tim.” 

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to find me on tumblr @nurse-franklin :)


End file.
